


The Sound of Silence

by Jade4813



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade4813/pseuds/Jade4813
Summary: Max had never had Zoey's power, but he'd never mourned its absence. Her voice, and the sound of her laugh, had been all the music he'd ever needed for over sixty years.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	The Sound of Silence

Zoey’s laughter was like music. Her voice was a song. It had seemed like that to him from the day they had met. The sound lilted, skipping up and down the scale like fingers dancing along piano keys. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

When she moved, it was a dance. For over sixty years, they’d walked side by side, hand-in-hand, each step in line, like a waltz. When she was nervous, it was more like swing dancing – wild and unpredictable but beautiful, as well. Her anger was a tango, breathtakingly passionate and impossible to ignore. Her desire was like a rumba, slow, sensual, and utterly intoxicating. And when she was happy, it was playful and buoyant, flirtatious and fast, like a cha cha.

Having her by his side made his life brighter, her voice and her laugh swirling around him in a melody of light and sound. Making the world more vibrant. Making his world better, just by being in it.

There had been a time when Zoey had a superpower, the ability to hear people’s deepest feelings through song. It had struck her suddenly and left her just as quickly, inspiring her to change the lives of everyone she met along the way. Max had never had that power, but he’d never mourned its absence. He’d never needed it. He didn’t need any more music, as long as he had her in his life.

His hip ached as he made the slow walk along the gravel path, barely noticing the well-manicured lawn stretching out on either side. He clutched the items in his hand tighter when a toddler darted in front of him, almost careening into his legs, and threw the little girl a gentle smile when her father scooped her into his arms with a soft murmur of apology.

He gave the man a small nod and then continued his slow, torturous trek, knowing Zoey was waiting for him on the other end. He hadn’t kept her waiting since the day they’d met. He wasn’t about to do so now.

Max saw the towering oak tree up ahead, swaying in the breeze, and knew he would find Zoey there. One step after the other, the gravel that crunched underfoot falling silent as he stepped onto the manicured lawn. His steps were slow but sure as he walked to the bench under the tree, where he would sit and wait for her. But first.

He bit back a groan as he knelt beside the bench, brushing some dirt and grass clippings off the front of the marble stone before him. As he did every day. Humming softly to himself – the song they had first danced to at their wedding – he meticulously cleared the grave of leaves and debris before carefully arranging the flowers he had brought. With one shaking finger, trembling from a mixture of age and emotion, he traced the words on the stone.

_Zoey Richman, Beloved Wife and Mother._

Bracing his palm on the bench, he used it to rise to his feet, turning to rest his weary body on its sturdy surface. Without a word, he carefully opened the book in his lap, staring at the pictures it held. The edges of the pages were worn, the paper fragile and discolored from almost six years of daily handling. The photos themselves were dog-eared and dulled from his hands, as he stroked them over the images of the woman he’d loved for most of his life. As he did now, his fingers swollen and clumsy as they lovingly traced the lines of her face, forever captured on their wedding day.

He would rest here a while, before heading back home. Before his world turned quiet and grey once more, and the music in his life faded into the quiet stillness of grief and the memories that carried him through his days. But for these few minutes, sitting next to the place where her body lay in rest, he would gaze at these photos of the woman he loved, and his life would once again be bright with color. If he closed his eyes, he imagined he could hear her laughter on the wind as it danced through the leaves above him, and his life was filled with music once more.

For a little while, at least.


End file.
